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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26628322">Digging Up The Past</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/FiveUmbrellaAcademy/pseuds/FiveUmbrellaAcademy'>FiveUmbrellaAcademy</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Umbrella Academy (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Actual rape isn't between Diego and Five, Angst, Consensual Non-Consent, Dubious Consent, Established Relationship, F/M, Hurt Number Five | The Boy, M/M, Past Rape/Non-con, Past non-consensual drug use, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rape Roleplay, consensual drug use</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 07:14:53</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,325</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26628322</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/FiveUmbrellaAcademy/pseuds/FiveUmbrellaAcademy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"You want to roleplay me being raped." Five muses, stirring his margarita. He plucks out the tiny umbrella and leaves it abandoned on the edge of the table.  </p><p>Diego splutters, before glancing wildly over his shoulders.</p><p>Five and Diego are in a busy bar, and Diego had absentmindedly suggested Five looking particularly hot, especially when he's pliant, almost as if he's being -</p><p>"What the fuck? Shut up, Five." Diego hisses, eyes darting around. "Anyone can hear you." </p><p>Five says nothing. </p><p>Or</p><p>Unfortunately, the roleplay triggers a memory Five desperately wishes he'd forget.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Number Five | The Boy/Diego Hargreeves, Number Five | The Boy/The Handler (Umbrella Academy)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>136</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Digging Up The Past</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"You want to roleplay me being raped." Five muses, stirring his half-empty margarita. He plucks out the tiny umbrella and leaves it abandoned pitifully on the edge of the table.  </p><p>Diego splutters, before glancing wildly over his shoulders.</p><p>Five and Diego are in a bar, and Diego had absentmindedly suggested Five looking particularly hot, especially when he's pliant, almost as if he's being -</p><p>"What the fuck? Shut <em>up</em>, Five." Diego hisses, eyes darting around, particularly at a couple within earshot. "Anyone can hear you." </p><p>Five says nothing. For the longest of moments, Five toys with the idea. With a sigh, Five finally shrugs. </p><p>"Sure. Why not. Anything you dish out I can handle." </p><p>Besides, Klaus says that if the sex isn't spiced up, the relationship will ultimately falter. And Diego was the one good thing that's happened to Five in a long time. Five fixates firmly onto his glass of margarita. </p><p><em>It's okay. It's Diego.</em> Five feels himself relaxing against Diego, as his brother presses himself firmly against Five, groaning. "No. Fucking. <em>Way</em>. You're actually agreeing to this shit?"</p><p>Five feels Diego's hand resting possessively on his inner thighs, trailing inwards, feels his brother's hardness pressing against his leg.</p><p><em>...What's the worst thing that could happen?</em> Five wonders, detachedly as he willingly opens himself up to Diego.</p><p>A week later, however, Five finds out.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p>"Hey. What's a pretty boy like you doing here in this part of town? You lost?" </p><p>Five glances up. A man stands there, clad in a black leather jacket and leather jeans. His lingering eyes trail down Five's chest, lower, lingers there, and it's obvious he likes what he sees. </p><p>Five smirks, lifting his glass to his lips. Ever since he'd hit the big one-seven, he'd gotten used to such advances.</p><p>"How old are you, anyway?" </p><p>"Well, let's just say seventeen. Give or take a few years," Five tilts his drink in a mock cheer. </p><p>The man gestures at the table. Or more precisely at the empty seat next to him. "Seat taken?"</p><p>Five contemplates it. "Yes, in a matter of fact, it is." Five drains his margarita. "By my lousy boyfriend who's evidently not bothering to even show up." </p><p>"Ah. Can I at least buy you another drink?" The man asks, eyeing his almost empty glass.</p><p>Five muses over the thought. He'd been waiting obnoxiously long, and it's looking like Diego might not show up at all. The asshole. </p><p>And besides, this man is a rather suitable alternative. Five decides to humour him.</p><p>"Why not?" </p><p>The man smirks, before disappearing to the bar. When he arrives, there are two drinks in his hands. One, whiskey and the other -  </p><p>Five stares at the drink meant for him. A clear - <em>ominously</em> clear - glass of water. A flash of a very similar drink being offered to him a few years back. The only difference now is that the hand holding onto it isn't female and Five actually has a choice this time.</p><p>Five swallows hard. </p><p>" ...Five?" Diego asks, placing down the drink and sitting down next to him. The warmth of his hand rests on Five's thigh. His next words were soft. "...You really don't have to do this -"</p><p>Five brings the glass to his lips and downs it in three gulps. </p><p>"I was thinking of breaking up with him, actually." Five says, forcing his gaze to meet the man's. The water goes down easily. Of course it does. It always does. Why would this be any different?</p><p>The man's eyes are still on him, frowning in clear concern. Five doesn't react, keeps his gaze steady, until the man finally clears his throat, and grins.</p><p>"Ouch. That bad, huh? Let me guess. He's not good enough for you in bed?" The man quips, taking a drawn out sip from his own glass of whiskey.</p><p>"Nope," Five says, popping the 'p'. Distantly, Five is aware that he's still clutching tightly onto the glass the man bought for him. "<em>He</em> was entirely average." </p><p>The man splutters in surprised laughter, before eyeing Five in clear amusement.</p><p>"Entirely average, huh? Gotta admit, can't say I know the feeling." </p><p>Five feels the corner of his lips curve into a smile as the man winks, and Five feels the warmth that's only reserved for Diego spread through him.</p><p>Ah. And this is where the effects starts to kick in. </p><p>"Huh. Is it me or is it getting hot in here?" Five wonders, tugging vaguely at his own collar. The music is beginning to pound in his ears, and his vision alarmingly losing its clarity on the edges.</p><p>Gripping his glass tighter, Five distantly wonders why the effects are significantly quicker than usual. </p><p>Back then, at least it had taken a few more minutes for Five, so that he could afford a few extra minutes to use his increasingly detoriating mind to search for an escape route, to plan an <em>escape</em> from - </p><p>No. Five isn't escaping. Five tears his gaze away from the three exits his gaze automatically searched for. This is different. Five isn't trying to escape. </p><p>...Not this time. </p><p>Relaxing his grip, Five clears his throat. As to be expected, his head is beginning to spin. </p><p>"Hot? Well, now that you mention it, it is getting a bit hot." The man says, though Five notes he doesn't attempt to take off his jacket or adjust it. "You okay, there? Need some fresh air?" </p><p>Fresh air. </p><p>Fresh air - <em>doesn't help in the slightest, Five knows that from past, agonizing experiences as he gasps for breaths</em> - might help. Calming his breaths, Five forces his gaze up to meet the man's, wincing as his head pounds from the tiny effort. </p><p>"Yeah. Fresh air. Might help." Five bites out, strained.  </p><p>Mildly corncened, the man tugs Five up to his feet, and Five feels a hand wrapping too harshly, too possessively around his waist. Five staggers, and leans against him as his legs threatens to buckle underneath him.</p><p>They weave through the sweaty bodies, thrumming to the music, blissfully unaware of what's happening right under their noses. The man presses on, Five staggering far too often for his liking as he's increasingly losing awareness of his surroundings. </p><p>Kicking the back door unceremoniously open, the man tugs Five through it. Five, however, only manages a few shaky steps before his legs buckles. Falling helplessly to his hands and knees, Five gasps desperately for air. </p><p>"Shit. You don't look too good. Look like hell, actually. Here, maybe this can help." </p><p>Panting, Five screws his eyes shut. A familiar hand grasps his chest, bunching up his shirt before slipping underneath and roaming freely. On his stomach, his chest, <em>everywhere. </em></p><p>Five just focuses on gasping for air, when the hand suddenly vanishes as quickly as it appeared, and the man is tugging Five to his feet again.</p><p>Five knows he hadn't imagined it, not even though it's admittedly hard to tell, what with his withering sense of self.</p><p>"<em>C'mon</em>. Let's get you somewhere safe." The man groans out, a guttural sound in his throat, sounding deeply turned on. The hand that was gripping around his waist tightens… </p><p> ...Right. The man expected him to struggle. </p><p>"Stop," Five breathes, attempting to pull himself away from the man. <em>Shit.</em> Now his strength is depleting. Again, Five wonders why the <em>fuck </em>it's a lot quicker this time round. "Where are you -? <em>Stop -"</em> </p><p>He was leading Five away to a street with no lamplights, in a shady part of town. A blacked out car is parked in the darkest corner, tucked away from any nearby houses.</p><p>"Shh, I got you. Don't worry, sweetheart, I got you." </p><p>The back passenger down is yanked open, and the man manhandles Five roughly into it. </p><p><em>Sweetheart</em>. That's the name she'd call him, back then. </p><p>
  <em>Fuck. </em>
</p><p>Lying on the backseat of the car that's slamming shut on him and away from help, Five struggles to breathe.</p><p>Shit, this might not exactly be a good idea after all.  </p>
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